Jake had two hunks at the table and the three of them were laughing out loud when we returned. Jake, of course, could be heard from the entrance, and he only paused waving his arms about animatedly to grin at Tony and me as we approached the table.
"So how about you two being fabulous," Jake slurred the word 'fabulous' like a diva, winking at us. "And getting us all another round of cock... tails..."
The table cracked up and Jake was obviously drunk, pouring another shot down the pretty boys' throats and licking the spills from their necks. Tony and I looked down and smiled to each other from the corners of our sideways glance. There was something deep about him, especially in contrast with the reckless horsing around of the very young Jake... He has an 'old' quality... something out of an old Hollywood black-and-white film. An old-fashioned gentlemanly sort of grace, I think it is. Again, I understood the Clark Gable comparison.
Obliging Jake's request, I ordered more drinks, but after another four or five rounds of scotch and whiskey shots though... I started to worry if I could still drive home. The lounge had gotten quite crowded it seemed, and the people and faces at the table were beginning to blur.
"We can get a taxi-cab?" Tony asked, his face aligning into my focus.
The thought of cabs of course started to recall in my Wong Kar Wai-infatuated mind all the awkward intimacies and distances that played out with Tony and his costars in the backseats of cabs. It made me grin stupidly and grab onto his arm, my legs almost collapsing beneath me from my own surprise at my public forthrightness. I felt Tony's other arm immediately at my side, restoring my balance... his head tilted slightly with concern, his eyes peering into mine. Without words between us, he proceeded to bid the table goodbye, telling Jake he would take me home in a cab. Self-consciously, I released his arm and wobbled to stand on my own. The feel of his arms in mine was too much. It made me want my clothes off; it made me want to taste his skin. And the lights and people that I started to barely see all around us... I needed some air quick. We went out to the valet, told them to hold my car till morning, then got into the cab they called for us.
With his small stature and build, Tony was unexpectedly strong^×I realized through cloudy thoughts as I leaned onto him, my arm thrown over his shoulders as he half-supported and half-dragged me through my front door. Drunkenly, I placed my full weight on him and we collapsed onto the carpeted floor. Seemingly always in 'character', he barely grunted as I fell onto him, but I didn't have his restraint. The way his smaller frame felt under me made my cock twitch in my pants, and he reciprocated by finding my crotch with his thigh. I groaned into his neck, detecting through my fuzzy senses the lightly musky scent of his skin under his cologne. A soft whimper escaped me and he ground his thigh between my legs, while at the same time rolling me off him and both of us onto our sides. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion (damn you, Wong Kar Wai). Our eyes met and locked, and it felt like the longest time was spent with me studying his face, only to find that he was studying mine. My heartbeat quickened and paused repeatedly, with the belated realization of where the night had led us.
I also realized that I had no clue what to do next. Cocksluts like me take orders, follow instructions, need a heavy hand for guidance and to be kept in line... realigned... But here I was with a growing hard-on, beside a man whose silent strength refused to take the lead. His jaw was clenched in the sexiest way and even in my state of uncertainty I couldn't help but to run a finger along his jaw-line, my eyes averted from his dark mysterious eyes that kept threatening my composure with its questioning advances. I kept stroking my finger up and down, slowly, along the side of his face. As I stared at my own fingers though, he suddenly caught my hand in his and pulled it away from his face. My will refused, but I looked up at him anyway, though briefly. The gentle sternness of his eyes and his silence embarrassed me.
"I'm sorry," I spoke to his collar. "I think I've had a little too much to drink."
His expression and reticence didn't change or leave his face. Slowly, I pushed myself off the floor and from him, shaking off his hand from mine, and lifting myself to my feet. I stumbled a few steps backwards and sideways, chuckling at my own drunkenness and in attempt to ease the tension in the room. Tony lifted his torso off the floor, leaning one arm on the carpet, and kept watching me.
"You don't have to pretend anymore."
His words were sharp though they weren't sharpened for me. I turned my face away and staggered to the front door, closing it and leaving us in the dark without the glow of the porch-light.
"Tell me what you want," he said, taking out a cigarette.
It hung unlit from his lips and I realized how much I wanted to kiss him. I remembered my dream of Brandon, and it dawned upon me that I had been kissing dick and ass for so long that I'd forgotten what it felt like, what it tasted like, to kiss another man, to feel soft lips pressed against mine. The sound of his striking match made me turn to him. He never took his eyes off me, even while flicking out the flame of the matchstick.
"Come upstairs with me?" I whispered, my voice cracking.
Still without a change in his expression, he neatly got off the floor and walked up the stairs, leaving me to follow him from behind. His suit jacket came down just over his ass, but the tailored slit shifted with his pace just enough for me to catch glimpses of the seat of his gray pants. The stairs made me think of more Wong Kar Wai scenes, which served to further turn on my drowsy head.
To see this stranger comfortably stride into my bedroom and seat himself at the foot of my bed... I was too enamored and could only follow him to find myself getting down on my knees between his legs. My palms pressed against his upper thighs as he tapped his cigarette into the ashtray I had left on my unmade bed. Reaching out a hand to my neck, he ran his forefinger down and over my adam's apple. His fingers trailed lower till it reached the already-slackened knot of my tie, and he tugged it looser. My head, having been jerked a little closer to him, reached out with my lips to his chin, which I kissed tentatively. The texture of his smooth-shaven skin and the silhouettes of his nose and lips on the side of his face were erotic, and made even more so when he brought his cigarette to the corner of his mouth, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out to a side. The smoke swirled in the motionless air around us as I nibbled on his lower lip.
His fingers, still on my tie, tugged me forwards and up, bringing my lips fully onto his. I parted mine and he very slowly gave me his tongue. His tongue was truly an extension of him and his demeanor^×it probed my mouth with an unhurried calm, tracing out my teeth and avoiding my own tongue that fluttered instinctively, trying to force engagement. He took his time though, exploring the insides of my cheeks, his mouth barely pressing against mine. After awhile of his erogenous exercise though, I couldn't take the tease much longer; a whimper escaped my throat, and he nursed it gently with his tongue. Soon my breathing was little more than short gasps and whimpers, and he carefully withdrew.
He smiled at me for the first time since we had left the club, then grabbed the sides of my face and crushed his mouth onto mine. His lips ground onto mine, his tongue now insistent as it probed into my mouth. I sucked deliciously at his tongue as we both strained^×he to give more of his tongue, me to take in more of him. My hands strayed from his thighs to his lap, but his moved from my face to push them aside. I tried sliding my hands back to his lap, but again his hands pushed them away, and this time held them in place on the bed at the sides of his thighs. His palms felt good on top of my hands; his grip firm. Strangely though, it wasn't so much his firmness that had me so massively turned on. Instead, with his fervent mouth and tongue there was spoken the unfamiliar yet greatly satisfying sense of his own yearning. It wasn't like my desperation or Illyas' demonstration of superiority. There was something simple yet supremely alluring... I think it may have been passion, the kind of passion that comes alive with feelings of security and comfort... perhaps it was sincerity. Being there with this man, our hands clasped in an unassuming play of power that came so much more naturally than the 'roles' that I had always found myself pining after... Being there with this man was different. It felt like he was there for me as much as I was there for him. And yes, I was hungry for his cock, but not starved just for the idea of cock and a demeaning fuck.
With his hands still pinning mine at his sides, he bit my bottom lip and firmly guided me with him as he leaned slowly backwards. I got off my knees and straddled his thighs as he laid on the bed, our lips still locked. Through fluttering eyelids, I kept catching glimpses of his face, so close to mine and so delicately handsome in the proximity. His lightly tanned complexion and the way the light met his features threw shadowed tones all across his face... and it seemed like we couldn't get enough of each other's lips.
I pulled away and his eyes blinked open, his expression finally shifting to one I could translate. I hadn't noticed before how his puppy-dog eyes were what gave him solemn look, which at that moment was replaced with a mournful look of yearning I had never seen before in anyone's expression. His parted lips were filled with unspoken questions, his eyes betraying momentarily his own confusion. Requests remained rooted in the pause.
I sat upright, straddled over his thighs, his knees still bent over the edge of the bed. Not looking at him, I put my palm over his tie, slowly stroking down his chest. It was an olive-green silk tie with a paisley print; I had admired it since we were introduced.
"Tell me what you want," I say softly and with a slight smile, my eyes not daring to hold onto his face for long in between quick glances.
His expression seemed to calm. With his lips still slightly parted, he brings both hands up to my face, cupping it firmly, his thumbs stroking at my cheeks which were feverish from the alcohol. I close my eyes and leaned my head back as he pressed his hands tightly on my skin, dragging his palms down my neck. Slipping his fingers first under my collar and massaging my neck briefly, he then slips his fingers to the front of my shirt, undoing the first button. I look down to watch his rather slender fingers carefully undo each button from the top, sliding over each small length of my chest's freshly exposed skin as his fingers traveled towards the next button. His gaze was fixed on his task, though he stole glances in the process, with only his eyes almost-coyly looking up at me from under his dark brows. After undoing the last button even more slowly than the rest, he suddenly tears open my shirt, aggressively ripping it back and off my shoulders. His body pressed tightly against me as he sat upright and reached behind me with both hands to tug the shirt from my arms. My buttoned cuffs kept the shirt hanging from my wrists behind me, but he left it unconcerned and started rubbing and stroking my back with abandon. His upper arms squeezed my arms to my sides, and I moan in my accidental state of physical restraint. His lips had found my bared chest and he was covering it with fervent kisses, nibbling and sucking on my flesh. I stretch myself backwards to give him access to my nipples, each of which were consequently licked into his mouth, flicked with his tongue, and lightly clamped upon by his teeth. Each time his mouth did something new, soft groans and whimpers would escape me. My head was thrown back, securely supported by his left hand, while his right hand gripped my side, pulling and massaging the flesh there almost painfully.
Is this what pleasure is supposed to feel like? I was grunting softly through gritted teeth, my cock hard and straining against the front of my pants.
Once he had started with his assertiveness, his momentum didn't seem to allow pause or show a sign of slowing down. Deftly, the hand behind my head jerked my upper body forward, where his hand released its support to grab at my cock through my pants. His kisses were biting into my neck as I felt and heard him unbuckle my pants and pull down my zipper in a few precise movements. The thought of Tony Leung about to have his hands on my cock made me squirm on his lap, and I sighed loudly in relief when his palm began massaging my erection through the thin material of my boxers. My entire body started to twitch in anticipation; my eyes tightly shut, my lungs expanding and contracting in tight constrictions. The feel of his fingertips on the bare skin of my manhood was unbearable. My ass clenched and a shiver shot down my spine in response... just as he slipped my cock out into the open and clasped his fist around its girth. He held my cock motionlessly for a moment, teasing the sensations that were running through me. His thumb slicked over the moist head of my penis, spreading my leaking precum over its full length. He pulled his lips from my neck to look down at my cock standing upright from the fly of my pants, then started tugging it at a steady pace.
I was seeing stars. His hand felt like a warm damp blanket, his smooth skin wrapped around my sensitive pole as he jerked me off while watching more precum ooze from my piss-slit. Seeing my own cock wrapped in his grip made me want his flesh in my hand, so without a second thought or the same savvy with which he had undone my pants, I fumbled at his belt buckle, my focus distracted by the bulge in his lap just above my exposed member. Anxiously I struggled to pull down his zipper and to release him from his tight white briefs. The aching of my hand about to hold this man's cock was amplified when my fingertips found its warm flesh and stiffness; and we both felt my dick jump in his palm. Grasping him under soft cotton sent uncontrollable shivers through me, both of us moaning in unison. His free hand guided mine to take him out from his pants and there I sat, on his thighs, he fully clothed with his cock in my light squeeze, and myself bare-chested with my slackened tie dangling over my manhood in his stroking grasp. His fingers held my chin and directed me to face him, the sullen sexiness of his eyes piercing me.
"Look at me..." he urged when I dropped my gaze, his hand giving my dick a particularly firm tug.
The moment I returned my gaze to his, he began stroking the burning flesh in his hand with a roughened zeal. Though for a moment the room sank around me, my head throwing back and moaning loudly, I managed to recover and follow his lead. With timid strokes at first, my palms soon started to pump at his cock at a similar pace with his pumping of mine. Both our breathing quickened, my moans and his groans of pleasure accented with the slippery sounds of our precum-lubed erections and hands.
My ass had unconsciously started grinding against his thighs, and his free hand reached behind me to let his fingers graze my puckered hole. I ground my ass against his hand. Looking into my half-shut eyes he returned his fingers to his own mouth, sucking them to his knuckles and lubing them to then be pressed against my back entrance. Slowly, he slipped a finger into my sensitive ass. The need that I had for the sensations of something penetrating me shadowed the fact that his slender finger in no way compared to the size of his cock that I craved to be fucked with. I shuddered and ground myself harder into his thighs, needing his finger deeper in my ass. When he slipped a second and third finger into me I was unable to contain myself from the intense pleasure that shot through me.
"Oh god... oh god... oh god... oh yeah..." I mumbled, heaving short gasps, the muscles in my thighs clenching and my hips fucking at his fingers. I had ridden up his thighs quite a bit, but only suddenly did I feel the back of my own hand nudging at my cockhead as I stroked his cock with my newly-beckoned fervor. Noticing too the proximity of our cocks, Tony extended his palm towards his own, taking it from my hand and grasping both our hot shafts within his hold... jerking them off against each other.
It was too much. His fingers fucking me, the sight and feel of our cocks pressed together, both stiff, swollen and still leaking precum...
"Oh god," I choked with a breathless shudder as I lost control and started shooting my load in his hands. My cum splattered onto my stomach, tie, and making a mess on the front of my pants. Tony didn't stop though, his stroking hand still using my cock to jerk himself off, my hole still tight around his three fingers^×the pleasure of both still stimulating what felt like every inch of my body. We both openly watched his hand stroking our cocks; the visual alone^×of my cum on his skin and smeared on our slick dicks^×was enough to keep me shuddering in the afterglow of my orgasm. And it seemed to have a similar effect on Tony, because soon we were given the pleasure of watching his cock erupt in his grasp. I watched foggily as his eyes squeezed shut, his cum shooting out in a few long bursts, streaming his sperm onto my chest and stomach. The feel of his throbbing cock against mine and his cum hitting my skin with a wet splat was exhilarating, exciting my cock^×and his^×towards the possibility of a new erection. It didn't help that Tony continued stroking, though now much slower; his eyes still closed. With a wave of sensation that mixed pleasure and slight disappointment, he withdrew his fingers from my quivering ass.
Looking to me finally, a glimpse of a smile faint on the side of his lips, he released our semi-hard cocks, which flopped back against our stomachs. We both sighed at the tingling feeling (that I'm sure he shared), then we grinned hazily at each other for a quick moment before he leaned forwards and pressed his lips on mine.
"Thank you," he whispered against my cheek, breathing heavily and nuzzling slightly.
I replied by easing his gray suit jacket off his shoulders, half-surprised by my own 'undisciplined' actions (even though most of the evening hadn't conformed to the 'discipline' I had come to be so sexually familiar with...). Throwing the jacket to a side, I then loosened his tie and pulled it over his head, my fingers trembling slightly, still tentative over my behavior that seemed foreign but nevertheless was fueled by my desire to touch the skin of his bare body. As if sensing my increasing discomfort, Tony moved my hands aside and began unbuttoning his own shirt. He nodded at me as if to say he understood, but without warning his tiny gesture threw my mind into an anguished convolution. What had I done? Had I just cum with a man whose mild aggression was nothing remotely close to the coarseness that I desire? Was it just the result of my all-too-pent-up sexual frustration? Do I not need to be fucked rough and hard and mercilessly to get off? My entire life, in that moment, felt like a sham whose culprit and victim were both me. Who am I if not the cockslut that I imagined I would forever have to hide?
"Matthew..."
His voice was filled with concern and questions; but it seemed to come from light years away. I blinked to find his shirt already off, his tan-colored skin shining with the sheen of perspiration that covered both our chests, shoulders, necks and faces. Something in me resisted, but my tongue still found its way trailing across his collarbones and then lower... His dark brown nipples were a delight in my mouth as I played with them with my soft, desperate licks and kisses that had to fight to keep from revealing the full urgency of my need.
"Matthew, wait..."
He must've sensed the change in me. His body pulled back and his hands restrained my shoulders from pursuing... And I felt the tears stream down my cheeks before I felt them well in my eyes. I pressed forward harder towards his chest, but his hold on my shoulders firmly held me back.
"Matthew," he whispered, though his voice was raised slightly. "Matthew, please tell me what's wrong."
His hands stroked through my damp hair, massaging at my scalp. But I couldn't tell him what was wrong... the same way I couldn't tell him what I needed. Straightening my back in a heightened self-conscious moment, I roughly wiped my tears from my face, trying to appear nonchalant. I scratched my head, brushing his hand from my hair, and then got off his lap. Facing away from him, I tucked myself back into my pants before I remained standing there in a forbidding silence. I'm not sure if I was more embarrassed about my revealed weakness, or more ashamed of having that weakness to begin with... Either way, there was a part of me that wanted to tell him... that this is why I never allow myself situations like the one we had shared and now stood frozen in. I wanted to tell this beautiful stranger who I was so obviously immensely attracted to... that he was my first. I had never been with a man the way he had coaxed me into being with him.
Sex is like a locker room for me... a place where my dark dirty secrets surface and threaten to be uncovered. Since I was a boy I've had the recurring nightmare... of having to face the world with the most humiliating part of my identity exposed and mocked. I would dream of walking through the hallways of my high school, naked and drenched in piss... sticky strings of other men's cum dripping from my matted hair and quivering body... and my own cock swollen in an unwanted erection.
The sickest part was waking from this nightmare to find myself covered in cold sweat and with a tent under my sheets.
How do you tell someone that you're afraid to be close because his closeness would turn you into a filthy cum-queen that you have no control over?
"I..." My throat felt hoarse... partly from wanting so badly to taste his cock in my painfully empty mouth. "I have a guest room downstairs..."
My eyes were shut tight as I damned myself in my head.
"Wh..." Thankfully, Tony seemed to think against questioning the abrupt change of mood and direction. He just sighed and spoke softly, "I'll be downstairs."
It pained something deep inside me to hear the sound of his zipper pull up and his clothes being gathered, his footsteps leaving the room... But it tore me apart to hear the strike of a match coming from somewhere down the stairs. I listened for the front door but only heard the squeak of my vinyl couch. I stayed standing there listening for awhile... straining to catch a sound of his breathing... a light snore, or sigh, or cough... anything... When I was returned with nothing but silence, I then crawled into bed, still half-dressed, and tried to fall asleep.